Painting Flowers Frerard
by I Wanna Run With You
Summary: Frerard Rated NC-17, Gerard is a thirty year old accomplished man, he is an artist and thinks he has a good life, until he's offered the possibility to time travel and possibly change the mistakes he'd made. He will also find out what he could've lived, and who he could've loved. Is he going to be able to change anything about it? What if it changes his future too much?
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

_Gerard had so far lived a good life. He had sobered up after the accident with his brother, and had succeeded in making the best out of his life with his art._

_He had moved from New Jersey to Michigan, in a city called Flushing because it looked calm, but mostly because he thought the name of the city sounded funny._

_He had moved there alone, and had quite a lot of little love affairs. Ok, one-night affairs with random people he met at some art meetings. Both girls and boys._

_He didn't mean to be thought of like an easy play, or a fuck toy, he just didn't want to stay alone._

_He couldn't bear loneliness because it allowed him to think, and overthink way too much. Though, this only-one-night thing couldn't last forever, Ray always told him. He had to find somebody and allow himself to be happy with that person._

_This is how Gerard started dating. Really dating. But the persons he met were either too boring, or dumb, and too talkative. It was as if he was stuck with his loneliness._

_That was, until he met this girl at this art gallery. Lindsey. She was sweet, and funny, and could we even deny her beauty. They started dating and they got along well, really well, but Gerard was way gayer than he thought. He only thought of her as a friend. His best fucking friend maybe. But she was his only way out of his solitude. And that was just what he needed._

_She had moved in with him and they lived together a whole year before Lindsey couldn't bear being that selfish anymore._

_"I know you are gay Gerard," she had told him, "I can't force you into loving me anymore, you are good. And I already envy the one that will get you to be his." And she had laughed one of her cute laughs. She had told him it would be better for her if they never met again. And they never met again, leaving Gerard back with his good old friend known as emptiness._

_But he decided against living alone again, and hired somebody for no special work. Just somebody who would take care of the house, the meetings where Gerard was invited, his art promotion and all these sorts of things that Gerard could totally do himself but didn't want to._

_The man he hired was Matt Pelissier. He was funny, although a little too uptight, but Gerard would work on that._

_He had forced Matt into moving in, and he, of course, had his own bedroom because no, Gerard would never –ever—fall for Matt._

_Gerard's art business had worked well since then, and they were currently in Chicago, for the opening of a new Gallery where Gerard would probably expose his work._

_Our thirty year old man thinks, or more, is sure he is happy. But if someone told him he actually wasn't happy and could change that, taking the risk to lose his already built future, would he have the guts to? What would be changed? There's only one way to know._

_**.**_

_**A/N **__**So, it won't always be in italic don't worry, it was just for the prologue. Sorry if your eyes are tired, ha.**_

_**Ok um, this is really short I know, but the first chapter will be an ass-long chapter and yeah, again, this is just a prologue.**_

_**I wanted my story to be out... Erm.**_

_**Well, hope anyone who read this wants more, and actually, I hope somebody read this.**_

_**Please tell me somebody will read this story.**_


	2. Hoping For A Chance To Make It Alright

"You might want to invite Mrs. Francis for a coffee this noon, Mr. Way," Matt said.

I sighed heavily. Matt was a really good person, and he really helped me succeed in selling and promoting my art, but meeting this Francis lady again wasn't in any of my plans in this life. Neither in my next life. Or the next. Well you get the idea.

"I suppose," I said, and got up from the sofa of the hotel room.

I was in Illinois for a few days, so I could convince an art company to expose my work in their next exhibition in Chicago.

Mrs. Francis was the company director, and I had to gain her approbation.

I crashed back on the sofa, sighing even heavier. "Is it really necessary?" I asked, looking at Matt with pleading eyes.

He chuckled slightly and nodded.

"Plus, I heard that your charisma got her trapped in your web, so I think convincing her to expose your art won't be too difficult," he said.

I looked at him, frowning and wearing my disgusted face.

He saw it and added, "So you can be done quickly and never see her again."

I bit my lip, passing my hand through my hair. I really reconsidered exposing my art in her gallery.

"Fine," I said.

Matt smiled and handed me my cell phone, with the number already dialed. I glared at him, and he held back a smirk before leaving the room.

I hesitated a minute and eventually press the call button. I didn't even hear the second ring because yeah, she had already answered.

"Hello, Gerard," she said, and I hope I didn't cause the excitement in her voice.

But then I remembered what Matt had said and immediately thought that maybe, flirting with her a little would multiply my chances to expose and get her to talk about me to other companies.

"Good morning, beauty," I said and almost choke when the word 'beauty' came out of my mouth. It sounded so cheesy, and so not me.

She giggled slightly.

"Ah, I see you're still as charming," she said.

I could hear her smile. To be honest, she was pretty decent. She was around her twenties, maybe twenty-fourish. She had beautiful eyes, between green and blue, yet not hazel. Her hair was a dark-ish blonde with sweet curls. She really was decent. She just wasn't man enough for me. She wasn't man at all. I was more attracted to anything man related than boobs, you know.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?" She asked.

"Well, I would like to know if you would be okay with having coffee with me?" I said, forcing my voice into a seductive tone.

I swear I heard her smile grow.

"Of course, yes, absolutely!"

"Alright, meet me at the café on the First Washington Street at one pm then?"

"Yes, ok, that's perfect, um, is it a date?"

I forced myself to chuckle.

"Well," I said, "We'll just see how it turns out."

"Ok," she said, probably grinning now, "see you there, Gerard." And she hung up.

I sighed again, and threw my phone on the sofa.

I walked to my closet, and picked a random black button-up shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. I hesitated about if I should wear a tie or not and eventually closed my closet door. I put the clothes on and walked to the kitchenette.

Matt was leaning on the counter, a bottle of soda in the hand.

"So, how did it go?"

He squinted a bit, "Oh, I'm sure Mrs. Francis will approve of the outfit."

I smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, I'm meeting her at the Atwood café," I paused, and looked at my watch, "in about thirty minutes, shit."

Matt put his hand on his mouth to hold back a chuckle, and covered it by coughing.

Laugh while you can, moron.

I wasn't that close to the Lake Michigan. I was about, well twenty minutes away from there by bus.

Bus, because yeah, Matt said we wouldn't need my car here because we wouldn't move too far from the hotel.

Damn you Matt.

I sighed and took my leather jacket. I put it on and walked to the door.

"Have fun, Mr. Way," Matt mocked.

"Screw you," I said as I heard him laugh.

I closed the door, and ran to the bus stop as a bus had just arrived. I climbed in and took a seat. I would make it in time.

During the whole ride, a man was staring at me. Not the staring that says 'Wow, I like what I see.' No, not at all. The sort of staring that makes you uncomfortable. The sort of staring that says he could read me, know everything about me since the day I left my mother's body. Ugh. I suddenly felt naked, and ashamed of what the man could possibly read from my past.

Fortunately my stop arrived and I hopped out of the bus, feeling better already.

I walked to the Atwood café and saw she was there, leaning against the wall right next to the door, bringing her cigarette to her lips to light it up.

I pulled out my lighter as I walked toward her without her noticing, and took the cigarette from her lips, lighting it up and dragging on it.

"A pretty woman like you shouldn't flirt with cancer sticks. There are other types of stick you could get on well with," I said, and looked at her.

She blushed and looked down. I smirked and took another drag before giving her back the cigarette.

"Thank you," she said, still blushing.

I smiled and she looked down. Where did all her confidence go?

She looked up at me again and put the cigarette out.

"Shall we go inside?" She said, smiling.

I opened the door.

"Ladies first," I said.

She looked down again to hide her red cheeks, and walked into the café.She walked toward a table in the back of the room and I followed her. She sat down and patted the seat next to her. Couldn't I sit in front of her?

I sighed quietly.

I eventually sat down beside her and we ordered.

Then she looked at me, as if she was waiting for me to say something.

Ok, yeah maybe I should say something, eh?

As I opened my mouth, she cut me off. Doll, you don't want me to get mad now do you?

"So, why did you want to see me?" She asked.

"Well," I said, "first, since I was in Chicago, I immediately thought about meeting you."

She smiled.

"That's nice of you," she said, "I won't lie Gerard, I've been thinking about you quite a lot since the last time I saw you."

Um, oh. I smiled, hoping she wouldn't see I really wasn't pleased about her thinking about me.

"Especially since I've found this gallery for the exhibition, um, would you be ok with exposing your work there?" She asked.

Haha. Inner laugh. This was too easy, where's the trick.

This time, I didn't try to fake a smile, but more tried to contain a wide grin and, fail. I was beaming like a fool.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, that'd be pretty bada- uh, awesome."

I really didn't fit amongst this type of people. I couldn't curse, at all. Never. And swear words are like, seventy percent of my vocabulary.

"Good, you'll have to send me some pictures of your new artworks, and I'll pick what fits with the theme of the exhibition," she said.

I couldn't help the grin. It had been really too easy.

"Thank you Jonna, really," I said, "What is the theme, exactly?"

"Ah, come on, it's nothing. You're talented, it's the least I can do," she said, grinning as much as I did, "and the theme is something dark, yet something that gives you hope, you know, some disease we all have deep inside, that will eventually kill us, althoug being anything but an enemy. Something bad and scary, that you can't help but love," she explained.

Thrilled is the least I could be. Man, I had new ideas fussing in every part of my brain. I just wanted to unleash my imagination and create, right about now.

"I, you know, I think I'm going to work on new pieces as soon as I get home, because fuck, I just want to!" I said and put my hand on my mouth when I realized I had said 'fuck' in front of her.

But she just giggled and kissed my cheek. Erm.

"Well, then go ahead, go home and create, dumbass!" She said, still smiling.

But, I, I was shocked, did she just, swear? In some way, she kind of did, didn't she?

"Don't look at me that way!" She said.

"Well, hey, the worst thing I had heard you say was 'idiot'. Let me enjoy this moment," I said chuckling and slightly poking her shoulder.

She leant in, kissed me, and pulled away immediately.

"I'm sorry, I- I've got leave," she said, and got up.

I heard her mutter some curses under her breath while she got out of the café, and that amazed me, that she could say such words, yet, stay so classy.

I stayed there another two minutes before realizing I could actually get back to the hotel.

I paid the bill, and got up.

I walked to the bus stop and damn I waited like, what, fifteen minutes in the pure cold of Chhicago. Those few minutes truly felt like an eternity.

The bus eventually appeared, and I propped myself up from the wall I was leaning against.

I climbed in and sat at the front, since it was the only seat where no one would be next to me.

But in a blink of an eye, the man I had seen in the bus when coming to the café, was sitting next to me.

I kind of jumped in surprise, because he really came out of fucking nowhere.

I looked at him questioningly and he smiled, all his ugly yellow teeth showing.

His smile suddenly vanished and he was looking sad. But he didn't seem sad because of something he had lived, more for something he saw in me. That's when I realized his hand was on my shoulder. I snapped it away quickly. He didn't look offended, just, still pitiful for me.

"What?" I snapped.

"You think you got through it, but you didn't. You're still a tormented soul," he said calmly.

"Um, excu-"

"-Isn't it painful to pretend everything's fine?"

I looked at him mouth open, what the fuck did he want?

I couldn't talk; I wanted to cry actually, with no reason. Just to unleash the rage and pain. It's as if he had compelled me into realizing how bad I was actually feeling.

"If you could change what you lived, if you could help your young self get better when no one was there to help you, would you?"

I still didn't manage to say a word. I was visualizing my past, those day spent in the dark, fucking myself up.

"I, I.."

"Take this," he said, handing me a weird turquoise necklace, "and squeeze it while falling asleep."

"W-what is it going to do?" I managed to say.

"Help you," he said, and I suddenly wasn't in the bus anymore, but in the street of the hotel.

"What the fuck?" I mumbled under my breath.

I put the necklace in my pocket, and walked to my hotel room to be greeted by a sarcastic Matt.

"How was it, then? Had fun?"

"Yeah, she's exposing my work," I said absent-mindedly, and it hit me then, that she had actually kissed me. I made a disgusted face and ran to the bathroom to rub my mouth with water.

Matt followed, apparently laughing his butt off.

"Oh," he managed to say between two chuckles.

His laugh started dying and he rubbed his eyes, "Did Mrs. Francis rape your mouth in any way?"

I was resting on the sink as I turned to glare at him. He coughed uncomfortably and got out of my sight.

I looked in the mirror, and for one split second, I didn't see me. Or not the thirty year old me.

As weird as it can be, I saw the fucked up nineteen year old me. Eyes red with dark circles around them from tiredness. Pale face, dried lips.

I gasped when I saw it again.

I had sworn to myself I would never look like this again, though, that's what my inside still looked like.

I splashed water over my face and rubbed it with a towel before getting out of the bathroom.

I felt the weird necklace the man had given me in the bus, pressing on my thigh. I got it out of my pocket and threw it on the bed.

"Stupid bullshit," I muttered.

"What did you say? Did you call me, Mr. Way?" Matt asked from the little kitchen.

"No Matt," I sighed, "I didn't."

He walked to the living room, where I was now, and looked at me, slightly concerned.

"What has gotten into you Mr. Way? You seem seriously bizarre. What went wrong out there?"

"Nothing," I said and faked the biggest smile of all time, showing my every teeth, "I'm totally fine."

"I can know very well when you, sir, are lying. But I'm not forcing you into telling me anything," he said, "just, if you- you know, talking," he trailed off and ended the sentence with an annoyed whimper, and then left the room.

I laughed to myself, because he was the one acting weird right now.

I sighed then, walked back to the bedroom, and saw the necklace shining on the bed, and sighed another time. What could it possibly do? How the hell would a necklace help me get 'better'?

I took it in my hand and started fiddling with it until it fell.

It wasn't broken but it was making a weird noise. Like, a baby chipmunk cry. I picked it up and it stopped immediately.

I really looked at it for the first time –I wasn't really paying attention to its features before—and started analyzing it.

It had white and turquoise beads that lead to a pendant in the form of a flower. This same pendant led to another big turquoise bead.

The flower was old dark silver, and in the middle was a tiny little baby, who seemed to float on water. The baby had an oddly sad and fearful expression.

I frowned and got back to playing with it while walking to the living room.

Matt wasn't there, I didn't know where he left, or why, actually.

I sat on the sofa and looked intensely at the necklace again.

Ever since the man had told me I was still a tortured soul, - even though it was only ten minutes ago - I didn't find purpose in my life anymore. Like, it crushed me somehow. I felt like I had gone back to the me that just hid in the dark, and fucked everything up. And I was really curious about what this item could possibly do to help that.

I mean, maybe I could just try? I've got nothing to lose. I could just lie down, and squeeze it and see what happen, couldn't I?

I laid down, reluctantly, and closed my eyes.

I hesitated for a minute about squeezing the thing.

My eyes flew open and I got up. What the fuck? Everything the man had said was just a lucky shot, seriously, who hasn't been depressed once in his life? This magical thing was pure bullshit, correct me if I'm wrong, but what could a necklace do except being itself, and not fucking move or unleash stupid powers, eh?

I put it around my neck because when it was in my pocket, it just disturbed me.

Matt still hadn't shown up, and I found it weird because, where could he possibly go? I hadn't even heard the front door.

"Matt?" I called.

No response.

"Seriously Matt, what the fuck?" I walked past the kitchen and to the bathroom.

"Jesus!" I exclaimed.

I hadn't found Matt yet, but once again, I saw the nineteen year old me in the mirror. It wasn't for just one second this time. It stayed like this. It stared at me, blanker than ever. Eyes still red.

"Help," he mouthed. And I sure hadn't moved my mouth at all, "HELP!" He screamed.

"Wow," I said backing from the mirror and getting out of the bathroom because fuck, what was that.

The necklace, of course. I put it off, keeping it in my hand, and went back to the mirror. I saw the thirty year old me, with the nineteen year old me flickering every now and then. I dropped the necklace, which started the annoying noise again, and the nineteen year old me wasn't appearing anymore.

Ok. So what, it made me hallucinate? I was certainly tired, that's fucking all.

"What is this horrible sound, Mr. Way?" I heard Matt say, in addition of the flush noise.

So, he was in the toilets this whole time. Ok. What.

I picked up the necklace, and the sound stopped. Really, should I start believing there was something weird with it?

"What sound?" I asked, wearing an innocent face.

He came to the bathroom and cocked an eyebrow, "Never mind, sir," He said. I really had to improve my lying skills, "I'm going out to get us things to eat, anything special you'd like?"

"Um, no I'm fine, thank you. Make what pleases you Matt," I said smiling, and handed him thirty bucks.

He smiled back and headed out. I sighed. Now that this necklace revealed itself to really be, well, supernatural, I just wanted to try what the man had told me to do.

I went to the king sized bed and lay down, closing my eyes and taking care of squeezing the necklace properly. I had no idea what I meant by properly, but I still did.

I waited a few minutes but it didn't seem like anything had happened, except that, when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a dark room. The necklace started the noise again, and I just closed my eyes hoping the dark room would vanish.

I waited for the necklace to stop screaming to open my eyes again, but it just wouldn't.

"Stand up," a hoarse voice told me, "keep your eyes closed."

I did so, and a blinding light hit my eyelid making me squint quite hard. I heard somebody chuckle, and say, "Never take the necklace off of you," and then nothing more.

No more light, no more noise, beside my breath. Though, I heard my breath from in front of me.

I reluctantly open my eyes, and gasped. I was in my basement. The basement I used as a bedroom, when I still lived with my family.

I almost fell on my ass when I saw myself sitting on my bed, classifying random things I used to take to get wasted.

The worst was that I remembered this moment. It was probably the worst part of my fucked up era. I really was doing whatever went through my head, even if it was the most dangerous thing in the whole wild world. I was testing my limits and 'oh well' if I died.

Seeing myself like this, pills all over the bed, brought a bitter taste to my mouth.

I didn't know what to do by then. I knew I would scare the shit out of, well, myself if I stepped closer.

But wasn't it why I was there, though? Not to scare the shit out of my young self, but to actually get close to him, and get him out of this misery. Help my young self, make me feel better and gain the self esteem I'd never gotten the chance to have.

I cleared my throat and he snapped his head up, fear in his eyes.

"Hey, it's ok, calm down, I mean no harm," I said calmly.

This was going to be difficult, now, wouldn't it.

"What the fuck?" He said, "Who are- what?"

Ok, was I allowed to say I was him? They didn't give me, like, fucking rules or things to respect so I guess I wasn't breaking the law if I told him?

I took one step closer, and he moved back in the bed.

"B-be careful, I know karate!" He said.

"My ass you do," I laughed, and he frowned, "I know you don't."

"And how is that?" he snapped, sounding a little unsure.

"Ok first, calm down, I'm not here to hurt you," I said, and he relaxed a little, "good."

I stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed.

He had brought his knees up to his chest and he was resting his head on his knees.

I stayed silent for a minute, searching a way to actually tell him I came from the future. Knowing myself, he would either believe it and be thrilled, or fucking laugh his butt off and then freak out. Depends on how high I, I mean, he was. This is confusing.

"Uh," I said and rubbed my nose, "don't you think we look a bit like-"

"Holy shit, why do we look so much alike? You're like, the old me," he cut me off, speaking calmly, "are you from the future or something, man?"

Ok why was everything that easy today?

So his sudden reaction to our resemblance proved how high he already was.

I cleared my throat.

Even though he had pretty much guessed everything, he was wasted, and wouldn't try to understand half of what I was going to say. He would listen, react, freak out, and try the lame karate moves - the ones he thought he knew how to do- on me.

I stood up and started cleaning the bed, taking every pills, and the little bags of weed and coke.

"Wow, hey, what the- man give it back," he whined, getting up lazily.

He grabbed my arm and I easily pushed him away.

He jumped on me, and I fell on my back. I didn't remember being that fucking heavy at nineteen?

"Ungh, get off of me," I said.

And he actually did get off of me, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. I sat up and he looked sorry. Ok, he was glaring a little but he really did look sorry.

"Seriously, why do you- I mean please, you can't take those away from me," he whined again.

I felt a stabbing ache in my chest. This was the worst, most painful thing I saw.

Seeing my young self, so dependant, unable to live without this. The pleading, yet wasted and sorrowful look in his eyes. I never had an outside view of myself, and I guess if I had had one at this time, I would've quit all of this dumb shit I thought was helping me.

He looked so desperate; waiting for me to give him the drugs back, just like a puppy would wait for- oh.

"Quit the puppy eyes," I said, "won't work on me."

And he started glaring again. I used to be such a manipulator seriously. Do you realize my young self almost tricked me? I almost forgot how, younger, I used the puppy eyes all the fucking time.

I still felt the aching in my chest, though, because it was really saddening me to actually see –and not just remember- how destroyed and crashed I was.

"Are you going to tell me who you are, then?" he asked sitting back on the floor.

"You pretty much guessed it already," I mumbled.

"Huh?"

"I'm you, I mean you're me, we're the same. I'm here because I was given the chance to help my young self. And yeah, here I am with you who's more fucked up than ever," I sighed.

"Huh?" He repeated.

"What?"

"Do you really think I can believe half of the shit you just said or?" he asked, an amused smile on his face.

I sighed again.

"Prove it," he said.

"Fine," I said, "ask."

"Ok, uh, my brother's name?"

"What, seriously? Man, for all I know, it's not something secret," I said.

"Well answer, then?"

"Mikey," I said in a 'duh' tone.

"Your mouth does the same twitch on the side as mine when I speak," he said, looking closer, "ok, harder, who am I crushing on?"

And to that, my friends, I stayed clueless. I couldn't remember crushing on anyone at nineteen. I probably never had the guts to go talk to them and ask them out, and ended up alone and fucking myself up even more.

"Uh, was I- are you seriously crushing on someone?" I asked.

"So I won't ever be with him," he said looking down, and suddenly up again, "not that I believe you," he added.

I chuckled slightly before going back to my concern, did I really crushed on some guy so bad it could crash me to know I wouldn't ever date him? Why couldn't I remember him?

"Don't you have any other question?" I asked, hopeful.

"Well, no, not really," our gaze met, "will I really look like that?"

"So you believe me?"

"It'd be in my favor, wouldn't it? I mean, I wouldn't complain believing I would really end up looking that good," he said smirking.

"You know, it feels weird. What you just said. You're telling yourself that you think you're sexy, I feel violated."

He snorted and looked away.

"Wait, where are you going to stay? I can't really hide you here, I mean, Mikey would see you, and-"

"Mikey's here? Can I see him?" I asked desperately, my eyes widening.

"What? Why? Does anything happen to him in the future?" He asked, horror on his face.

"You, well, um, crap. I don't know if I can tell you?" I mumbled, looking down.

"Please?" he looked really concerned, and who was I to hide the truth from myself?

"You'll drive him home wasted someday and will have a car crash. He will lose his ability to talk or move," I said, guilt rising through me.

After the accident I never drank or did drugs again.

I still hadn't gotten over what I did to Mikey though, and that's understandable, isn't it?

I had never seen him since. Or maybe two or three times in the month after the accident.

But every time I came, his pulse got too fast and it was too risky for his health. The hospital said I wasn't allowed in his room anymore but just at the window of it.

So I decided I wouldn't allow myself in the hospital anymore.

Though, I got pretty optimistic after telling it to my young self. I mean, he could possibly change it. I would get him to sober up and none of that would happen.

He saw the sudden glint in my eyes and got my thought. Thank God we thought alike. Ok that's legit but shh.

"I'll try my best," he said hopefully, "I swear, I'll stop."

"Good," I said.

We stayed silent a few minutes.

"You need a cover up!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"Wha-"

"Yes, something to tell people when they meet you? You're not going to go out saying you come from the future, are you?"

"I guess not," I said, "I can say I'm your cousin?"

"Yeah, mom and dad are totally going to eat that. It's not like they would know if you're from the family or not." He said.

"Get the sarcasm off, shithead."

"What did you call me?"

"Shithead?"

"You're going down," he said and jumped on me. He started hitting me playfully as I tickled him on the most ticklish spot I knew I -so he- had.

"Ow, no! Stop, ok, ok! You can call me whatever you want!"

I stopped and the basement door opened as a kid I knew as my brother came in. It took me my everything not to take him in my arms.

"Ow! My eyes. No. I don't want to see you and your last male cougar shot doing dirty things in this fucking room or house or fucking town, Jesus," he said, hiding his eyes all along.

When you actually looked at it this way, the young me was straddling me and my hands were resting on his waist. And what shouldn't be uncomfortable, became the most awkward situation in the whole world.

The teenage me laughed, though. Yeah, wastedness.

"Mikey, first I've never brought any male cougar or cougar or, actually, anyone home because.. because," he said, and yeah, it's not like I had a lot of success with whatever love related at that time, "second, he's my uh-"

"-boyfriend?" Mikey cut him off.

I pushed Gerard junior -that's how I am going to call him- off of me and stood up, brushing my now dusted clothes.

I held a hand for Mikey to shake, as he had, by the time, uncovered his eyes.

"I don't know where that went, I don't want to touch it," he said, looking at my hand like it was some piece of garbage.

I laughed and kept myself from hugging him. I had missed all of this sarcasm.

"I'm not with Gerard," I said, smiling.

He reluctantly shook my hand and brushed past me to talk to Gerard junior I presume.

"He looks just like you," Mikey whispered not quietly at all, "it's weird, I think he's not clean. What if he's from the future and is here to kill me for something I would do to you in the future? Wait what."

Gerard junior shot me a glance, and I nodded.

"You actually got it all right. Except he's not here to kill you. More likely, to protect you from me."

Mikey turned to me and frowned.

"What?" he said, "Oh god, don't tell me I'm going to die young! I want to live, damn!" He whined over-dramatically.

"You, um, don't worry," I said.

It was surprising how the two of them had believed it. I mean, they probably are the only ones who would believe such a story without asking any questions.

"Whatever," he said, "you need a cover up!"

Ok I really missed my brother, and the time where we both had the same ideas.

"I thought-"

"You could be Gerard's personal art teacher?" Mikey cut me off.

I looked at my young self for approval and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh my god, will my drawings get better in the future?" he asked.

"Definitely better, you- we will even live from our art," I said.

He sat back, his mouth hanging open.

"This is perfect," he said.

And then it hit me, what if the fact I told him about his art success, makes him take it for granted already? I actually worked a lot to get where I am now, he can't destroy that.

That's really when I understood I had to be careful about what I said. To get my young self sober up without totally re-writing my future would not be easy, at all.

"Hey, uh don't take it for granted ok?" I said, "I'm not sure how this whole time travel thing works, and I have no idea on what kind of an impact the words I'm saying right now could have on our future, like, you know, the way it could change it."

The young me nodded, quite enthusiastically and Mikey frowned.

"Yeah, so you're going to be Gerard's personal art teacher and your name-"

"-No way Mikey, I choose the name." I cut him off, and actually tried to come up with a good name but couldn't.

There were a damn lot of names and I couldn't come up with a good one.

I ended up thinking for three whole minutes while Gerard jr. and Mikey were fiddling with random items in the room.

"Ok that's it," Mikey said, reaching his patience limit, "your name is going to be Peter."

"No way! No way Mikey, there's no single hell out of a way that I'm going to be called Peter!" I exclaimed and my young self nodded.

"I agree, like, why not Brian when you're at it," the young me said.

And I could see Mikey really considering the Brian thing.

"You are not thinking about it Mikey, are you," I said a little threateningly.

"What if I was? Ok, what about Arthur? It's your second name so it suits you, doesn't it?"

I brought a hand to my hair and thought a little. Arthur would do. I think.

"Yeah," I said, "yeah ok."

Mikey made a woop noise.

"What about we get out?" the young me said, "I mean, get some coffee?"

My eyes lit up at the idea of having my first coffee of the day since I hadn't been drinking the one with Jonna.

"Yes, yesyesyes," I said and Mikey shot me a knowing look as he caught the craving-for-coffee look in my eyes.

We all climbed upstairs and it felt like the good old days. I had never realized how much I had missed it. How much I had missed going upstairs to hug my mom, steal Mikey's coffee, and get out for a smoke.

The scent of whatever my mom was cooking in the kitchen and the warm feeling of being in this house again overwhelmed me. I couldn't find back what had gotten me into doing drugs and stuff. I had an easy life, let alone the bullying. I seriously could have been happy. I should have been happy.

"Hi mom," the young me said, hugging her. I really needed a hug from my family, too, right now, "um, this man here is Ge- Arthur, he's my personal art teacher," he continued.

And my- fuck, our mom was staring blankly at me, a little shocked, "he does it for free," he added, and she unfroze immediately, greeting me with hug.

Could I say hallelujah here? Because hugs frome my mom, man.

"Nice to meet you," I said, and it felt like the weirdest thing on earth to say.

She smiled.

"Are you staying over for dinner, Arthur?" she asked, and it took me some time to realize that I was Arthur.

"Oh, um, if I'm not bothering?" I said.

"Come on," she said and Mikey went to whisper something in her ear. Her eyes grew wide, "oh my God, I am deeply sorry Arthur, your wife can rot in hell, of course you can stay here we have a spare ro-"

"-No he can sleep down there with me!" My young self exclaimed.

Our mom narrowed her eyes but eventually shrugged and smiled at us.

So, according to Mikey, my unexistant wife had done something bad to me, like, pushed me out of her house, leaving me with no place to sleep at.

He really came up fast with this lie.

"Oh Gerard, before I forget it, like the air-head I am, your friend, Frank, he called twice saying he still needed your help at the store? So move your ass down there," she said to my young self.

Frank…

The young me blushed a dark red, and oh..

"Shall the two of us go?" I asked him.

He nodded, biting his lip.

()()()()()()()()()

_**A/N hoi!**_

_**So here is the first chapter, hope you liked it !  
**_

_**People on Mibba said it was rushed and stuff and I was like, dude, there's not even a quarter of the beginning of the first plotpoint, what the fuck.  
**_

_**So yeah, tell me what you thought of it ! :)  
**_


	3. Nothing's Making Sense At All

We were getting out of the house when I realized I had no car. This was an annoying feeling. Really. And if I had a good memory, I got my first car at 21, not before, so we were going by foot to this store to see this Frank I didn't remember.

He was supposed to be my crush, and therefore I was supposed to remember him. But I simply didn't. Not at all. I tried to, perhaps, remember a friend of school, but the only persons I could remember were Ray and Bob. So he wasn't from my school. I tried to think about the people at the church, the guys at some gigs I would've talked to, but nothing. My teenage years were a blur.

"What does he look like?" I asked as we walked down the streets in the exact same manner; hands in our front pockets, our back crooked a little and looking at the ground. It was quite a creepy sight to be honest. I still had to get used to walking next to myself.

He sighed and looked up.

"You really don't remember him," he stated, hiding the sadness in his voice.

He sighed another time and continued, "Frank is," he paused to think, "Frank is that kind of cute little creature you can't help but love," he said, a smile growing on his lips. "He's got wonderful hazel eyes, on a perfect face, you know, the form of face that almost screams at you to sketch it. He's got a transcendent look that contains so many emotions at the same time, you can never know what he really thinks because it's just too much and un-decodable. You would lose yourself in it if you tried to, anyway. He's got a little nose, placed exactly where it has to be to make him look perfect. And his lips are the most tempting thing on the face of the earth. They are so velvet and red and it's just unbearable to watch them move as he speaks and not being able to taste them or feel them move on you, you know?" He looked at me expectantly, hoping I would eventually remember. I smiled apologetically and he looked back down. "It doesn't remind you of anything, huh."

"No," I answered, "but please continue," I urged him.

He smiled a little before continuing Frank's description. "Ok, so yeah, the lips. They're almost devilish; they're calling for me, knowing that their owner wouldn't be that pleased if I listened to what they 'told' me to do. He's also got some fluffy hair that I just want to touch at least once. It's so shiny and looks so smooth. When it falls in his eyes, keeping me from looking at their hazel color, it takes my everything to stay still and not to reach out to put that strand of sweet hair out of my view on those beads of his. And his kindness; he's just so nice, and sweet. He's quite smart yet so dumb, and weird. He's just, he's really cool."

That's when I realized we were both beaming. I couldn't even tell why I was grinning like a fool, or understand half of what made me happy about hearing all of this. The sincerity of his words hit me like a lightning bolt. He wasn't crushing on him; it was way more than that. He was deeply in love. _I_ was in love. I was feeling butterflies in my stomach, when I couldn't even remember the guy. Was it some kind of feeling transfer or something? I couldn't remember Frank, but I could remember what I felt for him, that was it. And right now, it felt good to be that happy.

"We're almost there," he said. "Frank is short, too, he's one year younger than me… us…whatever. He is," he paused as he looked up through the window of a music store, "there," he finished, nodding toward the window.

I looked up to the store, to see the boy who looked exactly how the young me had described him.

He was short, indeed, and had dark hair falling in his eyes which appeared to be the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And seriously? I think I just died, went to heaven, thanked God, and resurrected in less than a second. He was holding a vinyl of some random Jersey band, and was desperately trying to put it on the top of the display shelf.

When he saw us observing him, he stopped jumping and I'm sure I saw his cheeks turn a light pink. I smiled slightly and poked Gerard Jr.'s side.

"I think he needs help," I said, and the young me looked up at me, biting the inside of his cheek.

"You're taller than me," he stated. "You will be more helpful."

"But if I put the vinyl up there, you wouldn't have the opportunity to hold him up so he could place it himself." He frowned and I sighed. "Get in there, and hold him up so you can rest your head on his lower back while he puts the vinyl on the shelf," I said.

"Oh," he looked down. "I guess I can, yeah."

He got in the store and I followed him. Frank put the vinyl down and greeted Gerard Jr. with a hug. A friendly-ish hug.

"Hey man," Frank said, letting go of the young me to look at me.

"Oh, yeah, Frank this is Arthur, my uh, art teacher," the young me said as Frank shot him a confused look. He looked back at me and held out his hand for me to shake it.

"Frank, nice to meet you, Arthur," he said shaking my hand, staring in my eyes all along.

I still didn't remember hanging out with him when I was younger, but I would be ok with catching up, please. I obviously couldn't. If I hung out with him and that he ended up loving the thirty year old me, before the nineteen year old me, everything would be pretty fucked up, wouldn't it?

We let go of each other's hand and I tried to turn my gaze to somewhere else in the room.

"Um, Arthur?" Frank asked, forcing me to look back into his eyes. Tempter...

"Would you mind helping me?" he said, pointing at the vinyl. I looked at the young me, who was glaring slightly, then shrugged. I went to take the vinyl but Frank already had it in hands. He smiled as he saw my confused look.

"Come on, hold me up," he said.

I walked toward him and hesitantly placed my hands on his hips. He immediately placed his free hand on one of mine as I held him up.

I pushed away any thoughts of _desire_, because thinking like this about an eighteen year old boy was inappropriate, right? And considering the look Gerard Jr. was giving me, I should really start keeping my head low. Well not literally right now because if I lowered my head, it would land on Frank's bottom.

Frank finally managed to place the vinyl, after having stroked my hand all along. I put him down as quick as I could muster without actually dropping him.

"Thanks," he said, grinning.

"Anytime," I answered and Gerard Jr. made a shocked face with his mouth in some weird 'O'. I cleared my throat.

"But yeah, like, my back is hurting now. Time doesn't make me grow younger," I added, trying to get the young me stop glaring and close his mouth.

"Aw, come on man, you're what, 23? Younger?" he said before turning and walking to the cashier.

I mean, I can keep myself from flirting, but if he was going to act like this all evening, I wouldn't be able not to flirt back, just a little. What would be wrong anyway? No one should get jealous of each other, eh? Because there's actually only one person with Frank in this room.

_But Frank doesn't know that_. Why thank you inner voice for keeping me from having a little fun.

"Yeah, I'm thirty actually, but thanks," I said, without sounding rude, but _not_ friendly enough to make him want to keep on flirting. Maybe.

"Beautiful lie," he said and winked, then looked over at the young me and smirked. Was there anything to smirk at? I looked at Gerard Jr.'s face and he just looked pissed. Nothing to smirk at.

"You alright, Gee?" Frank asked not looking up from the papers on the cash desk and he nodded, although he knew Frank wasn't looking at him. When he looked up, he smirked again.

" 'm'going out for a smoke," he said and went outside, brushing my back with his hand in the process. And of course the young me saw it; he's not missing any single details.

Once Frank was totally outside and the door was firmly closed, Gerard Jr. looked at me with a glare that I knew too well. My fucking killer glare. The glare _I_ had kind of increased the power of – trust me, you'd never seen a glare more _glareful_ than mine. And he was using it on me? Fair game.

"What," I said not so much in a questioning tone, and not looking at him anymore.

"Stop flirting with him," he snapped, almost threateningly.

I turned to look back at him then, and leant down a little. I didn't say anything; I just glared back, waiting for him to quit the attitude he was having with me. He let out an annoyed whimper and stopped glaring. To say that I was satisfied was an understatement. I smiled to myself and stood up straight again.

"I would stop flirting with him, if I was the one flirting in the first place," I mumbled.

"Well you're not forced to flirt back, are you?" he asked. "Like, man, I can't even bear seeing him flirt with someone other than me, and you're just… there… flirting back like I wasn't in the room, watching you!" he finished, and ok, I couldn't help but laugh because, well because it was funny to me.

"Ok! Ok, I won't flirt back anymore, but um, _hello_," I said. "You do realize you're getting jealous of yourself, don't you? It's kind of like there's only one person with Frank in this room, so…"

"Yes but Frank doesn't know that!" he exclaimed.

"I don't know what?" Frank said, re-entering the store.

"Um, you don't know that um, Gerard, what does Frank not know about?" I said, being too obvious for Frank not to notice that we were hiding something.

"Uh, you don't know that I will know tomorrow if I'm accepted at the New York Academy of Art," he answered.

"You entered for it? Whoa man that's cool, hope they'll take you!" Frank exclaimed before finally totally getting in the store.

He went back behind the cashier desk, brushing, ok, maybe squeezing a little, my low back in the process. Did I shiver? Hell yeah, I did. Did my young self see it? Considering the death glare that was on his face, I suppose he did. Frank smirked at me and leant on the desk, staring at my young self, then at me.

"Arthur?" I looked up at Frank. "Excuse me but, are you a screamer or a moaner-"

"- that's it we're leaving," the young me said, grabbing my arms and dragging me outside the store.

"I'll call you guys on Saturday if I need help at the store, if that's alright?" Frank called after us. Neither of us answered.

We got out the store; the cold Jersey atmosphere hit my skin as I blew a hot steamy breath in the fresh air. It had become pretty cold since we left home, and it was a lot darker, too. Sigh, autumn.

"What the fuck?" my young self said as we started our way home.

"Well it was kind of funny. I see why you like him. I like how he goes straight to what he wants to know," I joked, although I knew how upset my young self was.

"Man, Frank's like, madly into you!" he exclaimed.

"At least you know he's gay now," I stated. He looked up at me and shook his head, signaling the end of the conversation.

"Look, I'm sorry, I should have invented a lie to get out of the store and leave you both together, or I should have acted rude or something. But I shouldn't have played his game, knowing you would hurt. I promise it won't happen again. I won't, I won't let him talk to me like that again, no matter how bitchy I've got to be for him to drop the flirty attitude," I said.

He just sighed, remaining silent after that. Shoot.

We were almost home, when he finally spoke again. "You need to get him to love me," he said.

"He already does somehow," I said.

"Maybe but he doesn't know that. I don't think he knows I'm you, yet."

"Yet? Hey, there's no yet. He can't know about it. That's the reason we created me a cover up, remember?" I said.

Mikey opened the door before we even had the time to reach the alley.

"Guys! Guuuyyyys! There's a horror movie marathon tonight," he said, beaming like mad. "I think we should totally watch it. You like horror movies Old Gerard? Well duh, of course, you're Gerard so you like them, right? This is the most confusing thing I've ever lived and why are you two wearing those hideous sad mad weird faces?"

"He stole my Frank." the young me muttered.

"First, Frank's never been yours yet Gerard. Second, that's the worst thing you could've done Old Gerard. Third, you're the fucking same you idiots," Mikey said and it was like whoa, thank you, Sherlock.

"Yeah, Mikey, I don't think it was a cool thing to remind me Frank didn't want me," my young self said.

"I said _yet_, bitch," Mikey said in a monotonous way.

"Yeah whatever," the young me said before walking past Mikey into the house.

"Dinner's ready, guys," I heard _my mother_ say.

Both Mikey and I walked in the house to the living room where my young self already was. We all sat as and my mouth started to water at the sight of the home made lasagna. I hadn't eaten those in so long that I think I could die from ecstasy with just one bite.

"So tell me Arthur, if you don't mind me asking, of course, but why did your lover push you out of the house?" she asked.

"Um, no I don't mind, uh," I looked at Mikey who was staring at me with wide eyes, as if he thought I couldn't make up a good lie. Ok maybe I wasn't that good at it, but I could surely invent a little thing that would be easy to believe.

"I, uh, she found some of my old high school pictures, including the ones of the prom, and in one of them, I was kissing a boy outside. To her, the only reason that could explain why I kept the picture was because I 'was in love with the guy and therefore was gay' and um, Eliza isn't that much into gay people, if you get the idea," I said and whoa, did I really invent that?

"She's homophobic?" Mikey exclaimed, playing along.

"Yeah, you could say it like that," I answered, bringing my fork, full of lasagna, to my mouth.

"Oh dear, some people are so closed-minded. I pity them for not being able to open their eyes and see the beauty in love, no matter who's sharing it. Good lord, help them accept that there's no such thing as inferiority no matter if it concerns the color of the skin, or the way somebody swings," she said.

Hi, mom, I love you.

I shot a look at Gerard Jr. I knew that, back when I was nineteen, I hadn't come out to my mother yet because I didn't know what she thought about gay people. So with this I hoped he would. The young me shook his head at me, and I insisted by slightly furrowing my brows. He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Hey um, mom?" he said. "How… how would you react if I had a crush on a boy, and uh, couldn't get it up when it came to girls?" Oh here you go… I literally slapped my face because there were so many other ways to come out to your parents, and he had to actually pick the weirdest.

"It was about time you told me, Gerard. Don't think I never go downstairs in your basement to do some cleaning, or to get back my straightener and my eyeliner. I knew you liked boys, Gerard. I mean, what kind of heterosexual men straighten their hair and wear eyeliner? I guessed it the minute after you came home with the skinniest pair of skinny jeans I had ever laid eyes on. And that magazine you had-"

"- yes ok mom, I get it, you knew. No need to spread out every little thing that made you guess it, in front of everyone, thank you," my young self said, cutting her off.

"It's not like I didn't know," I said and then everyone looked at me, and oh. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. "I mean, I pretty much guess what helped you figure him out." That was close, oh God.

"Ah, I assume you got that he swung that way the second after you two met?" she asked me.

"Uh, yeah, sort of," I nodded, and brought another fork full of lasagna to my mouth.

The conversation ended then, the silence only broken by the sounds of our forks against the plates and the occasional munching noise Mikey made.

"I like both genders," Mikey blurted out of fucking nowhere, and _this_, I had never known. I started choking on the bit of lasagna that I had just swallowed.

"Are you ok, Arthur?" _my mother_ asked.

I nodded, gulping down my glass of water to ease my cough. Mikey had never told me, never ever given me any hints. And as far as I knew, he had never had a boyfriend. I looked at my young self, and he was looking at Mikey with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

"What? Why is it so easy for Gerard to come out of the _gay_ closet, but when _I_ come out of the _bi_ closet, everyone seems to make such a big deal out of it?"

"I didn't say anything about it Mikey, you know I'll love you no matter what," she said.

"Yeah but those two muppets are staring at me like I was growing a head on my armpit," he said.

I chuckled slightly and looked at my young self who was now smiling and shoving lasagna in his mouth. Though, I had already finished it. I started fiddling with the tablecloth, until the young me poked my side. I looked at him and he leant in to whisper in my ear.

"Do you want to get downstairs?" he whispered, and it was like, why are you whispering in my ear?

"Uh, yeah?" I said.

"Join us when you're done, Mikey," the young me said.

We got downstairs, and he went to the little bathroom in the basement, locking the door behind him. I sat awkwardly on what used to be my bed and started thinking. My thoughts went from the fact I didn't remember Frank at all, to Mikey being bi. Gerard Jr. soon interrupted my thoughts by throwing himself on the bed. He lay beside me and put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me down.

"Relax," he said. "Just lie down a little. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did at the store. I just, I really like Frank, you know, a whole damn lot, and do you believe in vampires?"

"What?" I asked.

"I said, do you believe in vampires," he babbled.

"- No, I heard, but you were talking about Frank and then you ask me if I like vampires?"

"I'm sure they exist," he stated with a sigh. "I will be one of them someday."

"Gerard, look at me," I said firmly, sitting up. He lazily turned his head and looked me in the eyes. His pupils were dilated, and his blood vessels were showing up all around his iris. I sighed. "What did you take?" I asked.

"Don't know, just sniffed a random thing I found in the bathroom," he mumbled. I lay back down, with yet another sigh. He placed his head on my shoulder, and nudged his nose in my neck.

"What… what are you doing?" I asked.

"You smell good," he replied, taking in the scent of… himself?

"Ok…" I let him sniff my neck until I felt my skin being pulled by his teeth and a wave of shivers running through my body.

"Gerard, what the fuck?" I asked, pushing his face away.

Ok, yeah, he was high, therefore unconscious, and he must've been sexually frustrated, so I could almost understand his moves. But why was that making me shiver? I was not the least turned on by this. It would have been insane, and oh so self-centered.

He aligned his face with mine, ghosting his lips over mine. Was he really not realizing he was trying to kiss himself? I couldn't move though; I found myself frozen.

He licked his lips, intentionally touching mine with his tongue and whoa, I think I was sexually frustrated, too. He leant in and kissed me, and ok, I let him. I even responded a little. But when he moaned and tried to slip his tongue inside my mouth, while slowly dry humping my side, I just couldn't anymore. Like, me kissing myself and doing sexual things, no. I pulled away brutally, pushing him away in the process. He was panting, palming his hardening crotch through the fabric of his jeans.

"You're a good kisser," he breathed. I was about to punch his face when I heard Mikey come down the stairs.

"Ready for the horror movies marathon?" Mikey asked, and I heard my young self snoring behind me. Mikey looked at the young me and then back at me. "Guess it'll be just you and me then," he said, winking playfully.

Please, don't kiss me too.

_**A/N HEEEEEEYYYY! Sorry I took so long, I have no real excuse for being that slow. Just forgive me ok? No? Fine :c**_

_**A huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge thank you to Join the Masquerade (from Mibba . com) for beta-ing me, and facing the horrible monsters that are the mistakes I make.**_  
_**-uses the simple excuse of being french-**_

_**It's shorter than I wanted it to be, but I hope you will be satisfied with it?**_

_**Aaaaaaand, sorry for the Gerard/Gerard scene. I just couldn't help myself. I couln't not do it.**_  
_**Sorry sorry sorry.**_


	4. What More Can I Do

_**A/N: You are allowed to kick me. I'm sorry I took so much time when I actually said I would post it soon. Shit just got out of hand and I lost a family member and that's about everything you need to know.. Also, uh, school began and since it's my last year in High School, I don't really get much time for me. The updates won't be regular at all and I am deeply sorry about that. I will try my best, though, to write on a weekly basis. Thank you for those who are still willing to read this story.**_

_**I love you !**_

**xxxxxx**

I was woken up by the snoring sounds Gerard Jr. made, and my inability to breathe properly since Mikey's body was spread all over us.

I made an attempt to move him, and totally failed. He wasn't a heavy person but he sure as hell weighed more than he looked like.

I slid from under him, and exhaled heavily as I could breathe normally again.

I looked over at the clock in the room. It was already half past eleven and I _never_ woke up that late; it shortened the day, and I hated not having the whole day to do what I wanted to. Even if I had nothing planned, I needed to have the time to do _nothing_. If that made any sense.

I looked over at the two bodies in a heap on the bed, and sighed. What day was it? Friday?

I hated Fridays with an immeasurable force.

The word itself sounded gray, boring and wait, Gerard Jr. was supposed to know if he was accepted at the New York Academy of Art today, right?

Ok, maybe this Friday could be an exception to my Friday-hate thing.

I walked back to the bed and shook Gerard Jr. awake. I knew what was in the envelope, and I knew he was accepted, because _hello_, I had lived that day already. But I couldn't help the excitement.

He opened his eyes, groaning.

"Shit," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

He pushed Mikey off of him, making him fall on the floor with a loud thud.

"I'm fine, I'm ok, don't you guys worry," Mikey muttered, getting up.

"What time is it?" Gerard Jr. asked.

"Half past eleven," I answered.

He sat up and looked phased for a moment before getting up in a rush and running upstairs yelling 'coffee'.

Yep, just how fucked-up-minded I used to be.

Mikey shrugged and looked at me.

"I saw you yesterday with Gerard on the bed," he said.

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's it, pretend you're oblivious to what happened. It was the weirdest thing ever. If you actually are from the future and that you're really him and shit, then why was Gerard moaning in your mouth yesterday?" he asked.

Shoot me.

"Well, uh, he had taken random _things_, and wasn't in his normal state and obviously emotionally frustrated, and he just kissed me?" I said. "Yeah, he kissed himself and then said I was a good kisser."

"Fuck, I thought he had slowed down with the drugs," he sighed. "Whatever man, as long as you weren't planning on fucking yourselves," he said and then cringed at the thought.

We then went upstairs, to see Gerard Jr. trying hard to turn the coffee maker on.

Mikey let out an exasperated sigh, walked to the coffee maker and pressed 'on'.

"Dumbass, I swear," he mumbled, shaking his head and leaving the kitchen.

I stood there awkwardly. This was weird, I mean, me being awkward around myself. There was pretty much a reason, I'll give you that. But, I don't know, this didn't feel right.

"Gerard-"

"Let's," he began, cutting me off. "Let's not talk about it."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," I argued.

"You were going to say something about the fact that I _didn't_ kiss you yesterday," he stated.

"Oh, you remember then. I thought the drugs might have fucked you up too much but it seems they didn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly, looking at me sternly.

Ok, all right then, we wouldn't talk about it if he didn't want to. Not that I wanted to anyway, but I thought it needed to be sorted out somehow?

It seemed like the case was already dismissed.

He poured coffee in three mugs, and handed me one.

"I don't know how much sugar you want in it so, suit yourself," he said and started gulping down his own coffee.

I stared at him, then. This was stupid; he knew exactly how I drank my coffee since we were the same.

I kept my gaze until he finally looked at me five seconds later, realizing that he actually knew.

"Oh right, two coffee-spoon of sugar, sorry, I'm not used to this yet, ok?" he said, pouring sugar in my coffee.

I chuckled slightly and thanked him when he handed me my bowl back.

We drank our coffee silently, while Mikey was doing god knows what outside the house.

I would be lying if I said the silence wasn't awkward anymore, because it totally was.

"Listen, I think we should clarify-"

"Gerard, there's a letter addressed to you!" Mikey shouted from the hall, cutting me off mid-sentence.

Gerard Jr. immediately put his coffee on the table and ran to the hall. I did the same; except that I didn't run, and that I kept my coffee in hand. Ok so I actually didn't do the same.

Gerard Jr. was already fiddling with the paper, having a hard time trying to open the envelope, due to his trembling hand.

"Here, let me," Mikey said, trying to take the envelope to open it himself.

He quickly snapped Mikey's hand away.

"No! I will open it," he said as he was finally giving up on opening it properly, and was now tearing off the left side of it.

"Gerard, you're an asswipe, you should've let me open it. Now it's all torn," Mikey mumbled.

"What matters is that the content is intact, I don't give a shit about the envelope," Gerard Jr. answered.

He got the paper out, and started unfolding it, a reluctant expression creeping its way up on his face.

"Come on, Gerard, get this over with!" Mikey whined.

Gerard Jr. sighed and totally unfolded the paper.

"_Dear Gerard,_

_Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you of your admission to the New York Academy of Art._

_Your admission to NYAA is evidence of the Admission Committee's confidence in your potential, as well as recognition of your fine scholastic achievement and unique personal qualities. We believe you have much to contribute to the artistic vitality and diversity which characterize NYAA._

_NYAA is committed to give you the very best education available; and the high quality of the residential campus-life here, provides an exciting and productive learning environment._

_You will find in the envelope, a copy of the necessary information (Map of the Campus, schedule, etc.)_

_Please complete and return the forms included in this letter with your housing deposit and advance payment. If you have applied for financial aid, you will receive modification within the next few weeks._

_We hope to see you on our campus, and again, our warmest congratulation on your admission and best wishes from all of us at New York Academy of Art._

_Sincerely. Mr. Kratz._"

Gerard Jr. had read the letter out loud, and was now grinning from ear to ear.

"I was sure you were gonna make it, asshole," Mikey exclaimed, hugging Gerard Jr. as if it were the last time they would ever see each other.

"Come fucking hug with us, old man," Mikey mumbled to me.

I accepted gladly as I practically enveloped them in my arms. I remembered the excitement I had felt the day I had opened this letter. I was re-living every moment of my past. Every emotion that Gerard Jr. felt, I felt it too, and right about fucking now, I was the happiest I'd been in a long, long time.

"We need to celebrate that," I suddenly said. "We should, like, go out or something, I'll pay for everything."

"Yeah, we could go to that bar downtown, you know, the one with gigs almost every night? The owner allows us in and let us drink since that time we'd found his lost dog," Mikey said.

Gerard Jr. nodded enthusiastically.

"I've got to tell mom about NYAA, though," he said and left the hall, getting his phone out of his pocket.

That's when I realized we had slept in our clothes. That's when I realized I really stank. That's also when I realized I didn't have any other clothes than the ones on me.

"I think you could use a shower," Mikey said as if reading in my thoughts. "You smell like an old zombie. Not that I've actually ever smelt one, but I guess it would smell like you." He then paused. "We'll go downtown to buy you some clothes, too. There's no way you can go out dressed like this tonight."

"Hey, these are like, my favorite clothes. I look sexy in them," I said, wiggling my brows.

He just stared at me blankly for at least fifteen awkward seconds before brushing past me, patting my shoulder.

"Just get in the shower, ok?" he said.

And just like that, I was in the bathroom undressing myself. I took off my black skinny jeans and started unbuttoning my shirt, slowly revealing that necklace I had forgotten I had.

_Never take_ _the necklace off of you._ A voice echoed in my head. I nodded dumbly as if the person whom the voice belonged to was in the room.

I took my shirt and boxers off and stepped into the shower, recalling all the things I'd done in here.

There was the few times I had cut under the steamy hot water, or this time where I went in the shower with my cigarette and got pissed at the water for ruining my smoke, and the oh-so-many times I had been jerking off silently before going to school. It happened almost every morning –jerking off, not cutting or smoking under the shower—like some luck rituals, except I never had any luck anyway.

I jumped out of the shower as the cool water hit my skin. I was no longer used to having to wait for it to heat up since where I lived, in Flushing, I didn't have to wait.

Once it was hot enough, I stepped in again and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth.

I didn't realize how long I had stayed motionless under the steamy hot water before I heard bangings on the bathroom door.

"Man, are you showering or playing the young mermaid, get out of here," Mikey shouted.

I quickly washed myself and got out, wrapping a towel around my waist. Mikey was leaning against the wall in front of the bathroom, glaring at me.

"Uh," I said.

"Gerard put some clothes on his bed for you. I doubt they'll fit you but you'll have to deal with it until we get you new ones," he said.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "Sorry for, like, monopolizing the bathroom," I added.

"There better still be hot water for me, dude." He walked passed me to the bathroom.

Shaking my head, I walked to the basement and picked up the clothes on the bed and looked around to make sure nobody was in the room.

I dropped the towel, put boxers on, and then took a closer look at the clothes. Iron Maiden shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and probably the only pair of clean socks in this house. I put on the clothes, slightly struggling to zip up the jeans and walked out of the bedroom.

Mikey and Gerard Jr. were already waiting for me in the hall, all dressed and clean. Practically clean. Maybe Mikey was the only clean one, actually.

"You took your time," Mikey sighed, and it really didn't feel like I had taken that much time.

We walked out of the house and down the streets in a complete silence.

When we finally reached the commercial center, Mikey dragged me and Gerard Jr. to a band merchandise store and I kind of hesitated stepping in. But then I spotted several Misfits merchandize and why the fuck would I not get inside this shop? I might be thirty, but these types of clothes never got old.

"Alright," Mikey said. "There you go. Hope you took your wallet."

Then he and Gerard Jr. went to the 'band accessories' shelf while I just randomly picked simple –not so simple—black jeans. Black skinny jeans. Black skinny jeans with chains on them. Black skinny jeans with chains on them and too many skulls. Yeah.

Then I saw that magnificent Nirvana shirt and that perfect Misfits hoodie and jesus lord fuck, I could have bought the whole store. Which I basically almost did. But Mikey judged necessary to step in and take half of the clothes I had picked away from me to put them back on their shelves.

"Mikey, I have enough money! Fuck, have you seen that fucking Iron Maiden jacket? And the shoes, Mikey give them back," I surprisingly whined.

But then I realized I was older, and could actually decide what I could buy and what I couldn't. Even though I wasn't to be trusted in these kinds of stores.

I still ended up with less than I had in the beginning because, stubborn is Mikey.

I kept the shoes, the three skinny jeans, the Iron Maiden jacket, the Misfits hoodie, and the Nirvana and Rancid shirts. Also, there actually were blink-182 boxers and the three of us bought the batch of two boxers.

"Ok," Mikey said as we got out of the store. "It's really not like you spent $340 in there."

"Hey, there's not a lot of these stores where I live, and it's become so, so much more expensive. You'll notice that in ten years, kiddo," I said, ruffling his hair.

"Ok, whatever. It's like, five PM right now, right? We've got two hours before the gig at that bar starts." Mikey said.

"Yeah, do we go there a little before or what?" Gerard Jr. asked, fighting to get his lighter out.

"I guess? I mean, we could get there as soon as he changed from his awful clothes," Mikey answered, pointing at me.

I rolled my eyes.

**XXTIME LAPSEXX**

"Alright slow down with the beer, asswipe, we just arrived," Mikey told Gerard Jr. as he gulped down his second beer like there was no tomorrow.

There was the sound of a guitar being tuned and apparently the band was playing now. Not an hour later.

Mikey ran to the stage and when Gerard Jr. and I turned to face the stage, we met a familiar face. Behind his guitar and mic. And hair. Frank.

"Hey isn't that-"

"Yeah, it's Frank, I didn't know he was playing tonight," Gerard Jr. cut me off.

"Ok then, why don't you go front row and say hi?" I asked.

"I'll meet him at the bar, I guess?"

And the band started playing, keeping me from hearing what other useless things Gerard Jr. must have said about wanting another drink but having no money.

They started playing their first song, without introducing the band or the song itself, just letting the loud and uncoordinated notes blasting in the crowd's ears.

They weren't actually bad. They just lacked stage experience, I presume, but they did not lack talent.

When Frank actually started singing though, to say I was surprised was an understatement. I couldn't really tell if I liked the weird uniqueness of his voice or not. All I knew was that I wasn't going to block the sound from bewitching my ears anytime soon so I got a little further in the crowd.

A few other songs were played, Frank head-banging way too much to actually sing every lyric. He was like those bobble-head toys with that mechanism at the back that you had to turn several times before the toy bounced everywhere. Except that Frank's bouncing lasted longer.

Sweat drops were dripping from his forehead, rolling from his temple down to the nape of his neck to end up in his drenched shirt. This shirt that he should totally take off. Now.

He did. By the end of the set, he took off his shirt, revealing pale naked skin. Naked skin. I found myself expecting more tattoos than the one on his arm. I got a weird feeling, then, somewhere that I couldn't pinpoint. Just a vibe throughout my whole body, or just overflowing my brain. Then a flash. Some lost memories racing in front of my eyes. Frank was in them. I couldn't see anything clearly though, but could still guess the forms, and then nothing anymore. Just the remnants of a vague image of a tattooed chest.

The band got off the stage and I tried to kind of spy where Frank was going. I put my bag next to Gerard Jr. and pushed through the crowd to follow him but losing him when Mikey bumped into me.

"Fuck man, don't you watch where you're- oh," Mikey said. "Enjoyed the show, oldie?"

"Yes, Mikey, I did," I sighed, my eyes still wandering in the room in hope to catch a glimpse of Frank. "Could've used a chair, I suppose, my legs aren't as strong as they used to be. Because thirty is so old, you know? But hey, isn't it bed time already, Mikes? Better go home before mom's curfew," I added, looking down at him.

He stared at me blankly, "Well I know somebody who's got smokes and it's not you so you'd better lick my ass if you want one," he said, looking above my shoulder.

"I could still-"

"-Hey, you didn't leave Gerard alone at the bar with your bag in which your wallet is, right?" he cut me off.

Shit, shit shit shit shit, _shit_.

"Shit," I said bringing a hand to my hair. "He can't have gotten too much drinks yet, it's only been like, three minutes so it's cool. We just need to take my wallet away before he actually gets enough time to get shitfaced."

"Yeah, dude, it's weird because it seems like I know him better than you do when it should actually be the other way around. He must've had like, at least five shots of Tequila already, come on."

I rolled my eyes and we, again, pushed our way through the crowd to the bar, Mikey and I's arrival synchronized with Frank's. And it looked like we were just in time to see Gerard Jr.'s tongue shoved down a random girl's throat, their hips grinding wildly into each other's.

Frank's expression was blank, although I could catch a glint of pain in his eyes.

Then, the next thing that happened was Frank ordering a drink, gulping it down and walking towards me, shirtless, _shirtless_. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me down before attaching his lips to mine. The brain between my legs obviously decided that kissing back was a cool thing to do, and that grabbing Frank's waist was even funnier. Frank pushed his tongue past my lips and pressed our bodies together and that's exactly when my supposedly clever brain said 'stop'.

This 'stop' message, instead of creating a war between my two brains, forced me to pull back and let go of Frank and even ever so slightly push him away.

I stared at Frank who went to order a few drinks for his band—of which I still didn't know the name of.

My mouth opened and closed and re-opened and re-closed and I seriously couldn't get a fucking word out. I ended up throwing a sheepish look at Gerard Jr. while Frank walked off to his band mates.

Gerard Jr. seriously looked destabilized and a pang of guilt cut through me; I shouldn't have kissed back and pushing Frank away should have been my first fucking reaction.

And Mikey was just there, though, his mouth hanging open, pointing towards me with his scrawny finger.

"What," I snapped. I really didn't need anybody giving me a lecture right now.

"Did that really just happen," he more stated than asked before turning and- "Where's Gerard?" he asked. "Did you get your wallet back?"

"I didn't really get the time between the moment I arrived and the moment when Fran threw himself on me," I stated.

I turned my head and Gerard Jr. was actually at the end of the bar, gulping down his—one, two, three, four, five—sixth shot, I could tell by the empty glasses. I didn't know how he, therefore I, managed to take so many shots in such short lapse of time.

I slowly walked to where he was and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, let's go home," I said, as he stood up and pushed me away.

"You do not fucking touch me," he said somewhat threateningly but mostly, drunk-out-of-his-face-ly.

He then walked out of the bar and I followed him, cursing under my breath.

By the time I got outside, he had already lit up a spliff. I sighed to myself and stepped closer.

"Gerard, listen. Don't you try to interrupt me before I'm done," I started. "What happened back there should have never happened. And like, I don't mean to put it all on Frank, but the guy jumped on me and kissed me, not the other way 'round, and-"

"You did nothing to keep him from doing so, though," he muttered, smoke flowing out of his mouth, his eyes fixated on the ground.

"Right, it's not like you were practically eating that girl's face when we arrived at the bar," I said, making him look up. There was some distress in his eyes; he sure as hell didn't want Frank to have seen it.

Rage quickly overflowed his look, though.

"Don't even start with that," he almost shouted, pointing a lazy finger at me. "Don't even try to turn the situation over and put whatever blame on me, fucker."

"Look, I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean to hurt you. Frank just took me by surprise," _and he was fucking shirtless_, I didn't add. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," he mumbled, throwing his finished spliff on the ground and starting heading home, brushing past me just as Mikey got out of the bar.

"Is everything back to peace or is he bitchy-walking down the streets just because?" Mikey asked me.

I didn't answer.


End file.
